It's driving me insane already. I love writing, but there's SO MUCH OF IT. I'm inundated with it from all my classes. Literally EVERY CLASS has writing assignments due at some point this week. Or speaking assignments that I have to write out first. And the only thing I want to do is read books in my bed, hang out with my friends that I've sorely missed and think about how pathetic I am. Is that too much to ask? IS IT?
Apparently it is. Because as much as I want to say I'm over him and all his drama, I'm not. Not even close. And every time I say I am, I'm lying to everyone around me. And my extremely heavy workload doesn't allow for much pity party time. I can pity party or nap, and napping is the better option. Or so my body tells me.
But seriously...THE WRITING. I have to keep a weekly journal that consists of two pages a week, handwritten. Then there's the reflections and odd response papers. I have a 25 page senior paper, a 6 page paper on a Toni Morrison novel due later, and did I mention I have to read about 200 pages a week? Now I average about 200-400 pages a day when I feel like it, but still...damn.
It's a damn good thing I'm an English major, or else I'd be burned out by the end of this semester. This was a short post. I'm going to bed now because I have to go to class tomorrow, but I'll be done by noon, and then I can do ALL the sleeping. Then I'll do homework.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Friday, January 27, 2012
Packing
I didn't realize just how much crap I carried home with me until just now. I'm having to pack it all back up, and doing it with my gimp foot is no picnic. Everything takes at least twice as long as it normally does, and my foot's starting to throb because I've been on it so much. So I sat down to write a little blog post.
This is going pretty well, considering how hard it is for me to stick to my guns and actually keep up with things like this. It hasn't been a week yet, though, so we'll see how it goes.
My family is watching The Ides of March in the living room. It's a great movie, but I'm not in the mood for a political thriller. I'm actually leaning towards a well deserved nap. Packing is hard work, and I'm not even halfway done yet. I have to pack up the mounds of bathroom supplies I've allowed to explode everywhere. Plus I haven't even started packing the mountain of clothes I'm taking back with me. Then we add in shoes, books, movies, and some stuffed animals and a blanket. That's quite a bit of packing to do.
I hate packing. I hate everything about leaving, pretty much. I want to go back to Iowa, but not really at the same time. Getting away from Alvin will get me away from the boy who's become something of a destructive force in my life. I say boy, because he acts like he's 16 instead of 21. Its not because he plays video games and doesn't like to leave his house. It's the way he acts around girls. He moves too quickly with them, saying "I love you" after one week of dating and quickly moving from one girl to the other. He dumped his previous girlfriend, and not even three days later had a new one. His excuse of "I'm not ready to get into a relationship" seemed a little thin when he showed up with a new bitch, proclaiming his love for the world to hear.
I'm just the tiniest bit bitter because though we're friends, that's not what we started out as. We started out as two people who liked one another, and it escalated into suggestive text messages and long conversations at night. I couldn't wait to come home and see him. On my birthday, two days before I was on break, I got the news he was dating someone else. Then we were two people who didn't know how to act around one another. We turned into friends, then we were fighting, and now we're kinda friends. The only things that haven't changed about our relationship are my feelings for him. He keeps blowing me off for his new girlfriend, and it pisses me off so much I can't see straight sometimes. I'm leaving for Iowa tomorrow, and he hasn't bothered to actually spend time with me. We've seen each other a few times over the SIX WEEKS I've been home, not including church, which is cheating. He's the pastor's son, so he's kind of obligated to come to church. And I'm swarmed by other church members when I'm there, so I don't see him much anyway. The times we've seen each other have been with other people, excluding the one time we sat outside his house for two hours and talked because our relationship had deteriorated. There was a lot of discussion, and it appears we've reached a fragile truce with one another. Now we're testing the limits of this new friendship, and I hope it lasts.
This is what happens when I pack. It gets far too easy to stop doing anything productive and reflect on things. Like how much I'm going to miss my family. Like how much I'm going to miss attending church every Sunday. Like how much it hurts to leave that damn boy, despite all the anger and frustration I feel.
Leaving is going to suck.
This is going pretty well, considering how hard it is for me to stick to my guns and actually keep up with things like this. It hasn't been a week yet, though, so we'll see how it goes.
My family is watching The Ides of March in the living room. It's a great movie, but I'm not in the mood for a political thriller. I'm actually leaning towards a well deserved nap. Packing is hard work, and I'm not even halfway done yet. I have to pack up the mounds of bathroom supplies I've allowed to explode everywhere. Plus I haven't even started packing the mountain of clothes I'm taking back with me. Then we add in shoes, books, movies, and some stuffed animals and a blanket. That's quite a bit of packing to do.
I hate packing. I hate everything about leaving, pretty much. I want to go back to Iowa, but not really at the same time. Getting away from Alvin will get me away from the boy who's become something of a destructive force in my life. I say boy, because he acts like he's 16 instead of 21. Its not because he plays video games and doesn't like to leave his house. It's the way he acts around girls. He moves too quickly with them, saying "I love you" after one week of dating and quickly moving from one girl to the other. He dumped his previous girlfriend, and not even three days later had a new one. His excuse of "I'm not ready to get into a relationship" seemed a little thin when he showed up with a new bitch, proclaiming his love for the world to hear.
I'm just the tiniest bit bitter because though we're friends, that's not what we started out as. We started out as two people who liked one another, and it escalated into suggestive text messages and long conversations at night. I couldn't wait to come home and see him. On my birthday, two days before I was on break, I got the news he was dating someone else. Then we were two people who didn't know how to act around one another. We turned into friends, then we were fighting, and now we're kinda friends. The only things that haven't changed about our relationship are my feelings for him. He keeps blowing me off for his new girlfriend, and it pisses me off so much I can't see straight sometimes. I'm leaving for Iowa tomorrow, and he hasn't bothered to actually spend time with me. We've seen each other a few times over the SIX WEEKS I've been home, not including church, which is cheating. He's the pastor's son, so he's kind of obligated to come to church. And I'm swarmed by other church members when I'm there, so I don't see him much anyway. The times we've seen each other have been with other people, excluding the one time we sat outside his house for two hours and talked because our relationship had deteriorated. There was a lot of discussion, and it appears we've reached a fragile truce with one another. Now we're testing the limits of this new friendship, and I hope it lasts.
This is what happens when I pack. It gets far too easy to stop doing anything productive and reflect on things. Like how much I'm going to miss my family. Like how much I'm going to miss attending church every Sunday. Like how much it hurts to leave that damn boy, despite all the anger and frustration I feel.
Leaving is going to suck.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
I Hate Everything About Today
I promise not all of these posts will be negative. I found out yesterday that I have a stress fracture on my left foot, and have been walking on it for at least a week, if not longer. It's been causing me pain and shit, and I finally went to the doctor. After the x-rays he told me the wonderful news and put me in a soft cast.
Normally, I'd be really excited. This is the first bone I've ever broken. How is that possible, you might ask? I've never been one for hurting myself. When I was a freshman in college, I sprained my ankle for the first time in my life. It was a horrible sprain and my foot has never fully healed. It is the same foot that has this fracture, which leads my incredibly attractive podiatrist to believe that this fracture has always been there, but was recently aggravated.
Well fuck me. I have to drive back to Iowa in two days with a broken foot that has to remain in this cast for 6 weeks. I can't be on it very often, and I have to have it propped up when I'm sitting down. In Iowa there is ice and snow, and I have to walk through it all to class. Snow and ice are my mortal enemies, because I manage to fall on them every time I step into them. I fall at least once a day in Iowa, and I can only imagine what fresh hell awaits me now that I have to walk with this ridiculous fucking cast and boot combination.
This is the paragraph where I whine about how much I hate everything, largely because I'm not ready to go back to Iowa. I already miss my family and friends, and I've still got two days with them. This broken foot has a small part to do with my whining, but most of it is because I truly don't want to leave Alvin. I love my church, my pastor and his family, and my family is always on my mind, along with my lifelong friends I leave here every time I go back to Iowa. Right now, the fact that this is my last semester in Iowa is small comfort.
Now that that's done, the only funny thing that has come out of the last few days is the fact that I have contracted a fungus on my foot, which I have to treat with cream twice a day. My siblings have come up with some nice names, but my favorite is mushroom head. Having left you with that charming tidbit of information, I bid you adieu.
Normally, I'd be really excited. This is the first bone I've ever broken. How is that possible, you might ask? I've never been one for hurting myself. When I was a freshman in college, I sprained my ankle for the first time in my life. It was a horrible sprain and my foot has never fully healed. It is the same foot that has this fracture, which leads my incredibly attractive podiatrist to believe that this fracture has always been there, but was recently aggravated.
Well fuck me. I have to drive back to Iowa in two days with a broken foot that has to remain in this cast for 6 weeks. I can't be on it very often, and I have to have it propped up when I'm sitting down. In Iowa there is ice and snow, and I have to walk through it all to class. Snow and ice are my mortal enemies, because I manage to fall on them every time I step into them. I fall at least once a day in Iowa, and I can only imagine what fresh hell awaits me now that I have to walk with this ridiculous fucking cast and boot combination.
This is the paragraph where I whine about how much I hate everything, largely because I'm not ready to go back to Iowa. I already miss my family and friends, and I've still got two days with them. This broken foot has a small part to do with my whining, but most of it is because I truly don't want to leave Alvin. I love my church, my pastor and his family, and my family is always on my mind, along with my lifelong friends I leave here every time I go back to Iowa. Right now, the fact that this is my last semester in Iowa is small comfort.
Now that that's done, the only funny thing that has come out of the last few days is the fact that I have contracted a fungus on my foot, which I have to treat with cream twice a day. My siblings have come up with some nice names, but my favorite is mushroom head. Having left you with that charming tidbit of information, I bid you adieu.
Monday, January 23, 2012
What Is This Doing On The Internet?
I'm not sure anyone knows this about me, but I love to rant. That is, quite possibly, the reason my url is cathrynlovestorant.blogspot.com...
Anyway, I've tooled around with starting a blog several times. I've started and stopped, and sometimes I keep a journal, but not very often. To be honest, I'm not sure if this is going to be a thing I start doing regularly. Right now, in this moment at 11:28 p.m., the night before my aunt's funeral, it sounds like a fucking awesome thing to do. I've got all these convictions RIGHT NOW, but who's to say it'll pan out in the end? I guess only time will tell. You see, I'm a procrastinator at heart and loathe doing anything in the moment that doesn't bring me immense satisfaction. Conversely, I love helping people. I feel it is my God given duty to help as many people as I can every day.
In all seriousness, I do like helping people, and I don't think I do it enough. I love making others happy and bringing a moment of joy into what could possibly be the worst day of their life. I don't know some of these people. I don't know what they've gone through or are going through. It's not going to hurt me to be cheerful to strangers or be cheerful to my friends. It won't cost me a thing and doesn't take much effort. So I do it, and it makes me feel better.
I'm actually not sure why I'm posting this, or what it's about. It's just me writing everything that comes into my brain without a second thought, much like vomit. You can't stop it, and it makes you feel better when you're done. So I guess this is word vomit. That's a nice way to put it I guess. I'm the Virginia Woolfe of blogging. By the way, I'm an English major, so these types of jokes might show up here occasionally. I'm not a very good English major, in the sense that I don't get many of the jokes. I can't make them very often either, but I read pretty much anything I can get my hands on. I love all types of books, I am literally always reading something, and you won't find a more dedicated 22-year-old to the study of Shakespeare, which I plan to make the concentration for my doctorate...someday.
I will be a teacher. A junior high teacher to be exact. I've been called crazy several times, but that's okay. I know I am, and if you're reading this you already know I'm crazy, because you more than likely know who I am, as in you've met me in real life. But the point of this...paragraph, I guess, is to inform anyone who MIGHT not know who the fuck I am that I want to be a teacher. Children are also my passion, along with music. I'm not sure it's possible to have three passions, but I know that I care about English, children, and music a whole whole lot. I want them to be a part of my life every day.
I think that's all I'm going to write now, because I have to get up in approximately seven hours and get ready to go to my aunt's funeral, then go talk to people I probably don't want to be around for hours and accept a shitload of condolences when all I really want to do is go home, pop in a string of movies that will make me laugh or cry, get blindingly drunk off my ass, and hang out with my friend who's blown me off continuously for the past three weeks. You see, he's in a bit of a pickle. I'm not sure why, but I know it has something to do with girls, and though I am, in fact, a girl, I'm like his sister and am therefore exempt from his current frustration with the female population. And though he has shown a spectacular lack of interest in my life and troubles, he is in need of a friend now, and that is what I am providing for him. My friendship, my booze, and my comfy bed to lay on and watch movies. That is, that's what I will offer him when we hang out. If we hang out. Because he might not come over and hang out tomorrow, which would be true to form. Blowing me off is kind of like his sport. Wow, that was an extremely pathetic and self-pitying remark. Oh well.
That's another thing you should know. I am annoying as fuck sometimes, but you will never find a more dedicated friend. I care for a lot of people, but I only care about a few of them. Once my friendship is offered and accepted, it's damn hard to get rid of me. You have to do some pretty dick bag things to get me to stop being your friend. Be warned though: my friendship, once rescinded, is almost impossible to get back. It's hard for me to forget betrayal or dick bags. And if you, at any point in time, realize what you lost when you lost me, I feel little sympathy for you. You had me, and you were stupid enough to lose me, so you probably don't deserve me back. I realize this is a high opinion of myself, but I know how far I'm willing to go for my best friends and my family, and it's pretty damn far. Some might call it insane, but those who are lucky enough to experience it aren't complaining. So they take me as I am: whiney bitch and all, because they know they will always be able to count on me.
I guess I should put a disclaimer on this blog. It might be better to do it at the beginning, but if you're still reading, I assume you're interested. I have a unique brand of humor. It's a healthy mix of self-deprication, inside jokes, random statements, and is full of piss and vinegar. If you get offended by anything I say, please feel free to stay the fuck off my blog. This is my baby, and I will write anything I want on here. That being said, if you genuinely have a problem with something I've said and you count yourself as one of my friends or family members, feel free to call me and tell me. I'll try to explain myself as best as possible.
Okay, I'm for reals going to bed now. I have to, or I'll keep ranting about nothing really. Because this blog entry is currently about...nothing.
Anyway, I've tooled around with starting a blog several times. I've started and stopped, and sometimes I keep a journal, but not very often. To be honest, I'm not sure if this is going to be a thing I start doing regularly. Right now, in this moment at 11:28 p.m., the night before my aunt's funeral, it sounds like a fucking awesome thing to do. I've got all these convictions RIGHT NOW, but who's to say it'll pan out in the end? I guess only time will tell. You see, I'm a procrastinator at heart and loathe doing anything in the moment that doesn't bring me immense satisfaction. Conversely, I love helping people. I feel it is my God given duty to help as many people as I can every day.
In all seriousness, I do like helping people, and I don't think I do it enough. I love making others happy and bringing a moment of joy into what could possibly be the worst day of their life. I don't know some of these people. I don't know what they've gone through or are going through. It's not going to hurt me to be cheerful to strangers or be cheerful to my friends. It won't cost me a thing and doesn't take much effort. So I do it, and it makes me feel better.
I'm actually not sure why I'm posting this, or what it's about. It's just me writing everything that comes into my brain without a second thought, much like vomit. You can't stop it, and it makes you feel better when you're done. So I guess this is word vomit. That's a nice way to put it I guess. I'm the Virginia Woolfe of blogging. By the way, I'm an English major, so these types of jokes might show up here occasionally. I'm not a very good English major, in the sense that I don't get many of the jokes. I can't make them very often either, but I read pretty much anything I can get my hands on. I love all types of books, I am literally always reading something, and you won't find a more dedicated 22-year-old to the study of Shakespeare, which I plan to make the concentration for my doctorate...someday.
I will be a teacher. A junior high teacher to be exact. I've been called crazy several times, but that's okay. I know I am, and if you're reading this you already know I'm crazy, because you more than likely know who I am, as in you've met me in real life. But the point of this...paragraph, I guess, is to inform anyone who MIGHT not know who the fuck I am that I want to be a teacher. Children are also my passion, along with music. I'm not sure it's possible to have three passions, but I know that I care about English, children, and music a whole whole lot. I want them to be a part of my life every day.
I think that's all I'm going to write now, because I have to get up in approximately seven hours and get ready to go to my aunt's funeral, then go talk to people I probably don't want to be around for hours and accept a shitload of condolences when all I really want to do is go home, pop in a string of movies that will make me laugh or cry, get blindingly drunk off my ass, and hang out with my friend who's blown me off continuously for the past three weeks. You see, he's in a bit of a pickle. I'm not sure why, but I know it has something to do with girls, and though I am, in fact, a girl, I'm like his sister and am therefore exempt from his current frustration with the female population. And though he has shown a spectacular lack of interest in my life and troubles, he is in need of a friend now, and that is what I am providing for him. My friendship, my booze, and my comfy bed to lay on and watch movies. That is, that's what I will offer him when we hang out. If we hang out. Because he might not come over and hang out tomorrow, which would be true to form. Blowing me off is kind of like his sport. Wow, that was an extremely pathetic and self-pitying remark. Oh well.
That's another thing you should know. I am annoying as fuck sometimes, but you will never find a more dedicated friend. I care for a lot of people, but I only care about a few of them. Once my friendship is offered and accepted, it's damn hard to get rid of me. You have to do some pretty dick bag things to get me to stop being your friend. Be warned though: my friendship, once rescinded, is almost impossible to get back. It's hard for me to forget betrayal or dick bags. And if you, at any point in time, realize what you lost when you lost me, I feel little sympathy for you. You had me, and you were stupid enough to lose me, so you probably don't deserve me back. I realize this is a high opinion of myself, but I know how far I'm willing to go for my best friends and my family, and it's pretty damn far. Some might call it insane, but those who are lucky enough to experience it aren't complaining. So they take me as I am: whiney bitch and all, because they know they will always be able to count on me.
I guess I should put a disclaimer on this blog. It might be better to do it at the beginning, but if you're still reading, I assume you're interested. I have a unique brand of humor. It's a healthy mix of self-deprication, inside jokes, random statements, and is full of piss and vinegar. If you get offended by anything I say, please feel free to stay the fuck off my blog. This is my baby, and I will write anything I want on here. That being said, if you genuinely have a problem with something I've said and you count yourself as one of my friends or family members, feel free to call me and tell me. I'll try to explain myself as best as possible.
Okay, I'm for reals going to bed now. I have to, or I'll keep ranting about nothing really. Because this blog entry is currently about...nothing.
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